


Sending the Lost Boy to Hogwarts

by Yakarmi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awesome Molly Weasley, Canon Compliant, Cute, Family Feels, Gen, POV Molly Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25235614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yakarmi/pseuds/Yakarmi
Summary: A look into Molly Weasley's brain when she first saw Harry trying to get through Platform 9 3/4 and more throughout the books.
Kudos: 12





	1. Finding Platform 9 3/4

**Author's Note:**

> First fic on AO3 and first fic in years.  
> I changed up some of the dialogue from the book to avoid copying.  
> Enjoy!

Molly had done the whole Hogwarts send-off enough times to know a lost child when she saw one. Wayward brown hair seemed almost a little too mussed, bright green eyes a bit too large. A beautiful snowy-white owl was periodically giving a distressed hoot as if feeding off of its owner’s frazzled state of mind. Muggle heads were swiveling at the sound and were beginning to stare. Small children were pointing and asking their mothers to go look at the ‘pretty bird.’ 

A few minutes ago, she had seen him dropped off by a rather portly, neckless man who wore a nasty grin while mocking him. He'd left and the boy stood there, looking around for some sort of sign. Muggleborn first year then. She wondered how he’d even gotten supplies with guardians like that.

Ginny tugged at her sleeve.

“Mother,” she whined with big eyes. “I want to go, it’s no fair.”

“In a few years,” George- well, probably George- replied. “But remember, you’ve got to learn to wrestle a troll by then. Work on that head lock.”

Ginny complained that she wasn’t strong enough and that her arms were most certainly not long enough to fit around a troll's neck. Molly cuffed the most-likely George across the ear.

“Poppycock.” Molly turned to her youngest. “You needn’t worry, dear.”

In the corner of her eye she saw the little muggle-born boy ask a muggle guard for assistance. The poor dear. She got a glance at his wide, almost puppy dog-like, eyes as the guard scolded him and knew she had to help. She was a sucker for small children. But perhaps going to the boy was too forward. She would need to be discreet.

“Alright, crew,” she announced rather loudly. Every little ginger head turned to look at her except Ron who was too busy gawping at a business man in a suit.

“Don’t you think his robes are a little short?” Ron asked, turning to see the rest of his siblings staring at him. The tips of his ears turned pink. “What?”

He was ignored as the rest of the red-heads turned back to their mom.

“We’re going to help that little boy over there, alright? He looks a little lost,” Molly explained.

“I can go talk to him,” Percy offered, puffing his chest. One of the twins smacked him.

“Ever the prefect, eh, Perce?” The other one teased. Percy swung back at each of them, missing greatly. His mixture of his lack of athleticism and abundance of seriousness always made him an easy target.

“I think it’s great that you’re taking your prefect duties seriously, Percy,” Molly soothed. “But we mustn’t embarrass him. He has to come to us. Now everyone,” five pairs of eyes watched her intently. “Just speak very loudly.”

Molly herded her children, large trunks and all, passed where the boy was still having the discussion with a very confused guard.

“Very busy time, going back to Hogwarts!” She said loudly, supposedly to her children, but staring at the lost boy.

“Yes, mum!” One of the twins chirped in before shouting magnificently loudly. “Can’t wait to learn magic!”

Percy landed the swat this time and Molly heard a faint “Don’t talk about magic, you dolt.”

But the boy hadn’t turned around, hadn’t even heard. He must be rather dense. Definitely not a Ravenclaw.

She turned them around and the mob started walking in the other direction.

“Very busy indeed! The station’s always packed with Muggles!” Molly put extra emphasis on the last word, hoping to get a reaction.

The little boy swung around quickly, taped up glasses near falling off the bridge of his nose. They'd gotten his attention. She made a swinging motion at Percy, pointing to his owl. He got the hint and her son quickly picked up the cage. He swung it around a little as if putting it on display.

A few Muggles looked over, definitely confused, but most important was the boy. He was now watching them with rapt attention, eyes fixed on the owl. He was adorable.

“Now, what’s the platform number?” She asked just a little too loudly for his benefit. Ron rolled his eyes.

“Nine and three-quarters!” Ginny piped up loudly, probably excited to show off to the new wizarding boy. Her tone quickly changed. “Mom, can’t I go…”

“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet.” Not the time or place for this conversation. Now to show the boy how to get to the train… “All right, Percy, you first.”

One by one she sent her boys off, running straight into the brick pillar. The Muggles were all too engrossed in their own business to notice, but not the boy. In fact, he looked more confused. She held out her hand and stopped Ron, kneeling down.

“All right,” she whispered. “Just wait a second, we need to show him how to get through and-”

“Mum, do we really have to help him?” He complained. Molly gave another quick cuff to the head of one of her sons.

“Yes, yes we do and- oh! Here he comes.” 

Molly stood up and put on a big smile, turning to the small, disheveled brunet.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. Molly eagerly jumped in.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “First time going to Hogwarts? Ron’s a new student too.”

She pointed to her son who awkwardly stood there, a little taller than the boy, sheepishly smiling at the new boy.

“Yes!” The boy’s head bobbed up and down excitedly like a buoy. He started stammering. “I- I just don’t- I just don’t know how to-”

“How to get onto the platform?” she offered kindly down to him. He nodded enthusiastically again.

“Not to worry!” she reassured. The boy had begun to bite his bottom lip with nerves. The poor thing. He’d have to have Ron look after this one. She proceeded to give him a step by step guide to get on the platform. As she described running into the wall his eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“Go on now, before Ron,” she encouraged gently.

“Er- okay,” he said. He took a resistant step forward and hesitantly started to walk. Eventually, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. With a surge of a mix of childhood bravery and foolishness, he lunged forward and broke out into a run. Molly realized that she had never asked for his name.

Not that it mattered, she was sure to get it from Ron who himself was confidently running towards the wall. A bit of manners from this new boy would do Ronald some good.

She took Ginny’s hand and feeling good about her unconventional way of helping the boy, walked through to the platform with her daughter. Maybe one day the boy would come to be a good friend of the family, this moment creating a bond between the two boys. Molly had a penchant for picking up wayward children and, from the look of his current family, she would most certainly be adding this boy to her list of honorary family members.


	2. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make this a small, 3 part story since when I posted it on FFN I forgot to mark it complete and got two followers. It won't be long, but it will end sweet.

Molly smiled fondly at the small family assembled around the table at Grimmauld Place. Voldemort was back, Death Eaters were crawling through the cracks, and the entire wizarding world was at stake. But none of that mattered in this moment, in their own little safe house, gathered in the kitchen, eating breakfast.  While the air might be stale and food a little old, the atmosphere had never been livelier in the little house.

“The stew’s delicious, mum!” George shouted, kissing up to her after the whole extendable-ear debacle. He held up a spoonful with an enthusiastic smile. They’d been having stew for a few nights now, and as forced as that smile must have been, it filled Molly with a warm, happy feeling. Because despite their quite frankly astounding lack of responsibility, they cared about her enough to fake it. Fred smacked him over the head and the stew splattered across the old wooden table.

“I think it’s better than delicious,” Fred said and stuck his tongue out at George. George, in return, flicked the wet remnants of the stew on his spoon at Fred's face. “Best stew I’ve ever tasted.”

“Best  _ food _ I’ve ever tasted,” George shot back. Fred stole his bowl. A wrestling match over their bowls began, each yelling louder and louder about who enjoyed the food more. Arthur got involved so Molly didn’t have to, separating them by the scruffs of their jackets and confiscating their food.

Sirius and Remus had taken the spots next to them at the tail of the table, not having learned their lesson from the other night when Fred and George nearly turned Sirius’s hand into a kebob. The older men were giving their serious expressions a break to play a game of exploding snaps. Bill sat with them in a chair that was tilted back to the wall. His feet were up on the table and arms leisurely folded behind his head. Molly would normally chastise him for this, give him a stern talking to, but the beginnings of the war had forced him to grow up too fast. Regardless of age, he was still young and her baby. The slightest hints of immaturity comforted her, letting her know that she hadn’t failed him.

The game ended in Sirius’s loss. He groaned and stood up from the table, shooting Remus a nasty look. He took a step back and shouted out to the present company.

“Everybody, I must show you something most important!” He then bowed. At his lowest point his bones started to shift and fur sprouted from every area of visible skin. He clothes morphed with him into his black coat. When he finally settled, he was a big black dog. He lifted his head to the ceiling and gave a loud howl.

Remus, as though he couldn’t stop himself, joined in sounding distinctly inhuman despite his current form.

The room filled with whooping and hollering as Remus turned red. Sirius shifted back, patting his old friend on the back.

“No hard feelings, Moony,” Sirius chuckled. “But that was absolutely hilarious.”

On the other side of the table, Ginny leaned into Harry, Ron and Hermione’s little huddle as their conversation started up again. She looked on seriously although Molly could distinctly hear them discussing nothing serious at all. Quidditch scores and the conspiracy theory that Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick had started dating.

It was endearing that such events still mattered in the lives of young witches and wizards.

“Seamus said that Dean saw them eating dinner at the Leaky Cauldron,” Ron whispered. Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“And two colleagues can’t just go out for a drink together?” She said dubiously. Hermione was always sensible, she saw through most malarky. Her and Ron had gotten close over the summer, a perfect match. Molly had a good feeling about that one.

“But it’d be romantic, wouldn’t it?” Ginny sighed. She leaned in a little too close to Harry, who didn’t seem to notice nor care.

Ginny looked at him as though he single handedly held up the moon and the stars. It had been cute and at first, she accredited her admiration to the fact that Harry saved her from the basilisk but now, Molly was beginning to wonder. Harry was a great boy, albeit not the brightest, and was Ron’s best friend. He was an honorary member of the family. But being a good kid wasn't enough. He held the weight of world on his shoulders. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel with him dating her only daughter while holding all that responsibility.

Harry looked up to Molly as if he had noticed her studying him. He smiled up at her and Molly felt her heart clench. It wasn’t fair that he be forced into a war he knew nothing about. It wasn’t fair to any of them. They were being used as pawns by a wizarding world that was more often than not unkind to them. This summer’s newspapers had seen to that.

“Thank you for the food,” he said politely without the ulterior motives of her other sons. Ron scoffed.

“You don’t have to kiss ass like Fred and George,” Ron said. “You're her favorite.”

“Ron!” Molly admonished, not able to put her normal force into it. “Watch your language.” She turned to her ‘favorite.’ “I was just thinking, dear, that I’m glad you’re here safe with us now.”

His smile turned into a more genuine type of joy that spoke to the awful treatment he’d received in the past from his so-called ‘guardians.’ She would never forgive Albus for leaving such a sweet boy with such wretched muggles.

“I’m glad to be here, Mrs. Weasley,” he responded and looked down at his stew, swirling it around with his spoon. “I- Thank you for taking me in. I’m glad to have you all here. And if next year gets messy or something…”

Sirius came up from behind and patted him on the back.

“Don’t worry, if you’re anything like your father then you’ll be just fine,” Sirius said. “Plus, I’ll always be here for you.”

“I as well, the marauders stick together,” Remus said, coming up from the other side.

Both men slid their arms around him, bringing him into a side hug. Ginny scooted away looking distinctly disappointed.

“We’re your family now, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. The entire room was now watching. “We all have your back.”


	3. Chapter 3

The old, scarred mahogany table had seen many meals. It had been present in their lives throughout the war, had dozens of people sitting around it, and had been the third party listening in to many private conversations. Each light brown mark against the red of the wood held a different memory, another story.

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes found the mark where Fred and George had dropped a knife, nearly stabbing Sirius’s hand. A prickling sensation caused her eyes to itch and she closed her eyes.

“Dinner!” Harry shouted, closing the lid on a pot of stew. Ginny gave him a small kiss on the cheek, and went to take some rolls out of the oven. The stomp of multiple feet from the staircase came from behind Molly and Arthur folded up his newspaper. From the second floor came the racing steps of Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville.

Since the war had ended, the group of friends would take turns hosting dinner every week. A sentimental gesture to make sure they never lost track of one another. Brought together by a war and staying together by choice.

Molly and Arthur had been invited a few times. Usually on nights like these when either Ginny and Harry or Ron and Hermione were hosting. Their children seemed to think that losing most of their friends in the war had made them lonely.

They were right, but it hurt to think they had to think of them like that.

“What’s on the menu for tonight, mate?” Ron asked, clapping Harry on the shoulder. He was already standing beside him with a bowl in hand. Ron always loved to eat.

“Oh, would it kill you to wait for just a minute, Ron,” Hermione complained to her husband. Their relationship hadn’t come as a surprise, but the quickness of their wedding had. Molly had to wonder if it was from fear of losing one another before they could prove their love to the world.

“You  _ are _ a glutton,” Ginny commented, giggling to Hermione. “Have you seen him try to eat a cob of corn? It’s disgusting.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose meaning that yes, she had seen Ron devour an entire cob. Molly had never been able to drill table manners into Ron’s head.

“It’s okay, Ron. You can’t be worse than a knarl,” Luna offered, at Ron’s irritated expression. Ron looked a little lost.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks Loone- Luna.” Ron gave an awkward laugh, obviously not knowing how to deal with the strange girl. Hermione smacked his arm lightly and gave him a look. Maybe it was just manners that Molly had failed to adequately teach Ron. To the girl’s credit she ignored the near insult and got her own bowl.

“Tonight is stew,” Harry announced proudly. There was a chorus of groans from around the room and Harry frowned. “I thought you all liked the recipe. I got it from Molly.”

The boy often came to her for help with preparing food. He liked to bring Ginny dinners when she had a late practice. It greatly aided in garnering Molly’s full approval.

“Yes. We liked it the first time. And the second time. And the third time,” Ron said. “But the fourth time is kind of pushing it. Do you know how to make any other dish?”

“Like you don’t make spaghetti every time it’s your turn to make dinner,” Hermione came to his defense.

“I mean, I like it, Harry.” Neville was smiling sheepishly from across the room. “But you do make it quite a bit.”

“Molly made it last night,” Arthur commented from where he was sitting. Molly shot him a glare, he was just adding fuel to the fire.

“Well it’s easy to make for a crowd, but if you lot don’t like it then more for me.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest and stood in front of the pot as if he were guarding it. Ginny laughed and gently pushed him aside, taking a ladle and serving herself.

“More for me too,” Ginny said, taking a bit before choking. “Hot,” she gasped out. The room erupted in laughter and lined up to take a spoonful themselves.

It was nice to see them all acting more carefree, Molly reflected. She could still remember the hardened and haunted looks on their face at the end of the war. For weeks the smallest bump would make them jump and if someone so much as pointed a wand towards Neville, he would flinch and terror would flood his eyes.

Molly knew she wasn’t much better. Losing family and friends had sharpened some of the softer areas of her personality. Communication had to be immediate and tardiness was absolutely not tolerated. She had been worried, like everyone else, that there would be a third uprising.

Harry and Ron, in their new positions as aurors, tried their best to comfort her and everyone else. They worked sleepless nights, tirelessly hunting down Death Eaters for Hermione, who was already a superstar at the ministry. Luna kept track of it all, recording events so accurately that, despite the occasional rogue article about nargles or how to tell if your grandmother is actually a succubus, the Quibbler started to rise in popularity. Neville, in his position at Hogwarts, found ways to integrate survival techniques involving plants into every lesson. Molly had heard he once spent half a lesson lecturing on which plants to use to ease remaining pains from the cruciatus curse.

It took months for the war to work its way out of their consciousnesses and even then, small reminders wormed their way into their everyday lives.

Still, looking at them now, in this moment, Molly could see a future. A bright one, full of peace and happiness for each young witch and wizard in the room.And she knew that she and Arthur, now as honorary members of their makeshift family, would be swept along with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fic written on a whim and I hope everyone who read it enjoyed it.


End file.
